Here With You
by AllusionToAnIllusion
Summary: She can tell from the moment he walks through the elevator doors. She just knows. She knows that Alexis is currently flying to California in first class because if he's going to lose his baby he is sure as hell going to make sure she's comfortable.


**Thanks to a special someone who pestered me to write something. You know _exactly_ who you are. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Castle. Alas, not all dreams come true. **

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><p>She can tell from the moment he walks through the elevator doors.<p>

His shoulders are slumped and she can see the faraway look in his eyes when he looks up to scan the room for her. But most of all, he doesn't have coffee with him. And so she knows. She knows that Alexis is currently flying to California in first class because if he's going to lose his baby he is sure as hell going to make sure she's comfortable.

He doesn't talk when he reaches her desk, only giving her a small and very fake smile before collapsing in his chair. She studies him for a moment before going back to her paperwork, deciding space is the best thing she can give him right now. Partly because she can tell he's not in a mood to talk and partly because she has no clue what to say. A few minutes later he's tapping away on his phone, probably playing some sort of game or searching for the coolest new gadget. Yeah, all he needs is space and he'll be okay.

But as she walks behind his chair on her way over to Esposito's desk she catches a glimpse of his screen and it takes everything she has not to pull him into a hug and never let go. He's on the Stanford website. Granting him space isn't working.

She tries everything. She gives him perfect opportunities to turn her comments into sexual innuendo. But he stays silent. She teases him with snippets of tales from her wild days. His eyes don't light up the way she wants them to. She asks him if he's okay. He lies and goes back to reading the article on campus safety for the tenth time.

He starts rubbing his neck and she knows that he was sleeping in a chair next to Alexis' bed last night. His thumb swipes the phone's screen every so often and she knows he's looking at pictures of when his little girl was still little and it still felt like she was his. It's like Atlas dumped his cursed burden on the writer and left him there to break under the pressure of the world resting on his shoulders. He's hurting and he won't let her help. Watching that dejected smile cross his face becomes too much and she retreats to the break room, running her hands through her hair.

When he looks up from his phone he sees her standing there with the _World's Greatest Partner_ mug he bought for himself. She's holding it out to him, steaming brown liquid sloshing inside. He doesn't crack a smile but she can read the look in his eyes and knows he understands what she's trying to tell him.

She'll be right here when he needs her.

...

The anxiety radiating off of him in waves is almost palpable.

Their suspect, Scarlett Hymes, is telling them all about how she and the victim used to sneak off and meet for their secret rendezvous every afternoon. Clothing optional. They'd skip their classes and end up at one of their dorms and then head out for the night to find the latest party scene.

When she starts telling them about that one time she and Dunkin holed up in some abandoned building for three whole days with a couple of six-packs she cuts the girl off, knowing Castle is about to dial Alexis' phone number and demand she get her ass home now. The two girls are nothing alike, but she knows that won't stop him. She wants nothing more than to end the interrogation and get him out of here. Problem is she's not sure Scarlett is innocent. Scarlett's eyes shine with a cunning that betrays her as much more than her party girl exterior. She's arrogant, proud to tell a cop of all the illegal stuff she's gotten herself into. But under the whole _I don't give a fuck_ act, she sees that their suspect is being careful, tiptoeing around anything that might incriminate her further.

When the girl's alibi is that she was at some guy's apartment she feels Castle clench his fists under the table. And when Scarlett can't remember his name, she rests her hand on his knee and squeezes. He's still tense, but he doesn't seem like he's going to punch the wall anymore. Eventually, Scarlett remembers that he was in a band and produces a CD that has his name scrawled across the back in an autograph she never really wanted but thought the guy might like her more if she asked for.

The moment she stands and makes sure Scarlett knows they'll be in touch, he practically runs for the door. She follows him to the stairwell where she can see him reaching for his phone and starting to dial the familiar number.

"Castle," she grabs the phone and tries not to falter at the furious and pained look in his eyes, "Alexis isn't like that. She's nothing like Scarlett and you know that." She puts his phone in her jacket pocket, not quite trusting him with it yet.

"But–" He's frantic, but she doesn't give him a chance to work himself up anymore than he already has.

"No. Alexis didn't go to _Stanford_ to party. Your daughter is not that type of kid and I know you know that. Trust me, she's fine and is probably sitting in some boring lecture taking copious amounts of notes. Trust her." He closes his eyes and leans against the wall, jaw relaxing even though his expression doesn't.

"I'm so worried, Beckett. I just miss her so much." And then she's leaning against the wall right next to him, his hand clasped tightly in hers as she tries to take even a little bit of the pain away. Because, goddamn it, she hates seeing him like this.

"I know, Rick. I know."

...

Her first reaction to the sight of the body is that she's going to make sure whoever did this, burns in Hell.

Her second reaction is that she has to get Castle the hell out of here. Because even though there isn't much left of her, she can tell it's a little girl sprawled across the pavement, a little girl with fiery red hair. She turns to block his view but even as she starts telling him not to look she sees she's too late. His face is pale and his stormy blue eyes are wide and filled with horror. He takes a step forward, his eyes never leaving the girl's flowing red mane.

She takes his face in her hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers and wills him to walk away. _Go, Rick, damn it just get out of here._ She doesn't speak, doesn't say the words, but her eyes convey them expertly. But he's frozen in place, she knows that even if he wanted to he couldn't move, couldn't walk away when the girl reminded him so much of his own pride and joy. So she pushes him out of the alley herself, until he's running toward a trashcan by the curb, bending over it and heaving. She looks back at the dirty alley, seeing Lanie giving her a curious look laced with sympathy. She holds up her index finger to signal that she'll just be a minute before racing back to the car.

She takes a sip of the water, washing down the disgust and fury that had arisen at the sight of the small mangled form, and slowly approaches him. He's still heaving into the trashcan, but by now nothing is coming up anymore. He's shaking and she sucks in a breath at the vulnerability surrounding him. Placing a hand on his back, she starts rubbing small circles. Eventually, he stops dry heaving and comes back to a standing position, turning those confused and somber eyes on her.

Silently, she holds out the half-full water bottle and he drains it. He throws the empty bottle into the trashcan and looks back at the alley, jaw clenching and a fire lighting his eyes. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him to her, rubbing the back of his head with one of her palms. He buries his face into her hair, shielding himself from the images they both know will haunt them tonight. His arms come to wrap around her waist and he holds her to him as tightly as he can, still shaking slightly.

"Shh," she whispers into his ear, "shh, Rick. Alexis is fine. She's perfectly fine." He burrows deeper into her dark curls and she presses her face further into his neck so that she's almost mumbling. But he understands her clearly. "Shh, just shh. She's sitting in a coffee shop waiting for Ashley to come back from ordering her usual. There's a copy of _The Catcher in the Rye_ on her lap. She's re-reading it. You remember that's her favorite, right? You introduced it to her, gave her a copy for her fourteenth birthday. She loves that book." She'll say anything to get his mind off of the body. God, she'd do anything to make sure he was okay.

She reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, pressing speed dial two. She pulls away slightly and presses the phone to her ear, making sure Alexis answers before giving him the phone. When he hears his little girl's voice he visibly relaxes, the tension in his muscles melting away. She still has one arm wrapped around his neck, the other holding the phone to his ear. He has both arms wrapped around her waist loosely. When she pulls away and gives him a nod he flashes her a small smile of gratitude as he listens to his daughter chat on and on about how she just loves the weather out there.

Before she can get too far he grabs her hand, giving it a small squeeze they both know is a thank you.

...

She hears him running toward her as she stands in front of the now completely cleaned off murder board, but she doesn't expect him to practically tackle her.

He's hugging her so tightly and yelling that his baby is coming home. Alexis is coming home for Thanksgiving. He's laughing. And yes, he has laughed since Alexis boarded that plane months ago but she hasn't heard this complete inhibition in him since she left. And so she wraps her arms around his waist and laughs with him. She can feel his grin pressed against her hair and she can't help but let one of her own slip. His absolute happiness is completely adorable and she knows that if he wasn't holding onto her so tightly he'd be jumping off the walls.

"She's coming home." He's not yelling anymore, but the anticipation in his voice hasn't wavered, his smile only getting bigger. And then she's in the air, being spun as they cling to each other. He sets her down just as quickly and pulls back a little to look at her face. She finds that she misses being pressed against his chest. "I did it." She doesn't need to ask him to elaborate, she knows exactly what he's talking about.

"Yeah, you did." She's sure her smile is as wide as his, and suddenly she's glad that everybody else went home a while ago. She doesn't think being picked up and twirled by her partner would be good for her tough, ass-kicking detective image.

"She's coming home, Kate." It's like he can't quite believe it, like it hasn't sunk in yet. And then his face turns serious, the smile is still there because, quite frankly, she doesn't think he could wipe it off, but his eyes have lost some of their playfulness. "Thank you." Her brow furrows and he takes that as his cue to continue. "I don't know what I would've done without you here with me." She swallows hard. And suddenly she's aware of their position, arms wrapped around each other in the empty bullpen. But strangely, she doesn't want to run. She's tired of running.

"Always." She doesn't mean to whisper it, but that's how it comes out. The moment is charged, the electricity between them crackling. His eyes are fixed on her lips and it's the last straw. She uses the hand that had somehow found its way to the back of his head to bring his lips down to meet hers. And just like that, she's kissing him. She's running her tongue along his bottom lip and his hands are gripping her waist so tightly and, damn, it's so amazing. Her fingers tangle in his hair as her other hand runs down his chest, needing to explore more of him.

As she bites down lightly on his bottom lip he groans and pushes her against the desk, her body pressed flush against his. God, his hands are everywhere. They're running up her sides, getting tantalizingly close to the underside of her breast before sliding back down her sides and to her legs. Someone moans and she's not exactly sure who it is, but her money's on her. Ever since that undercover kiss, she's mulled over how easy it was for him to draw a moan from her. It terrifies her, and she loves it. He breaks away suddenly and she shoots him a confused look before he picks up her phone and holds it out to her. It's ringing. She hadn't noticed.

"Beckett." She's not sure the breathy gasp sounds very professional but it'll have to do. "Oh hey, Dad." Suddenly, Castle steps away from her and runs a hand through his hair, probably thinking somewhere in the back of his mind that her father knows exactly what they were doing and is loading the shotgun. "No, I'm fine. I was just jogging." She smirks at him and tries to suppress a chuckle when he waggles his eyebrows at her. "I'm sorry, Dad, I totally forgot. Give me thirty minutes to change and I'll meet you there, okay? See you." She closes the phone and starts to gather her things.

"Kate, I–" He starts but she interrupts him.

"See you tomorrow, Rick." She presses her lips to his for a sweet goodbye kiss and then she's walking toward the elevator, turning her head just in time to see the silly grin on his face.

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><p><strong>So I was sitting in my bed last night and the first few sentences just kinda popped into my head. And then this just grew from that. <strong>

**I feel like Alexis' little "Oh yeah, I'm just going to follow my boyfriend to college across the country a year early" was seriously overlooked due to the pure EPIC-NESS of the finale (Stana Katic for all the awards ever, thanks.) And, well, I thought I'd deal with it. In a very Caskett-y way, of course. **

**Review? What do you guys think? Because I know you think something, no use in denying it. And there's no use in hiding it anymore, I live off of reviews. There, now it's out in the open. So wanna keep me alive, guys?**


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